Singing to the Scenery
by Jamaica
Summary: Kanda is a photographer just out of art school. Lavi is the drummer of an upcoming hard rock band. They meet via a mutual acquaintance and the rest, as they say, is just a story of sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll. AU. Non-linear ficlet collection. Various pairings. Ch 2: Kanda sees Lavi for the first time.
1. Sugar (Lavi)

**A/N:** This is a series of short stories taking place in one cohesive alternate universe. It's about a rock band drummer and a prodigy photographer and everyone else around them. It's Kanda/Lavi mostly but include many other pairings, past and present. The stories will NOT be linear. This will also be on my tumblr (sparklymirror dot tumblr dot com)and probably will be updated faster there, so if you might want to check that for the latest.

 **Warnings (for all stories):** Excessive alcohol, rampant recreational drug use, lots of sex (both yaoi and het), creative cursing, mentions of dead people, and general hedonism.

Takes place in any major city, USA. The first one here is about the first time Lavi and Kanda get together. I will have a separate warning for each individual story if it's warranted. For this one, it's smutty goodness so DON'T READ AT WORK!

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 **Singing to the Scenery**

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 _Sugar_

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Kanda's mouth tasted like sweet sake. It was wholesome and clean, tinged with alcohol and the flavor of unfiltered grain. Completely unlike Tyki's, Lavi thought, whose cigarette habit usually blocked out all other tastes. He opened his mouth wider against Kanda's lips, their tongues touched in a spark of heated breaths and deep exploration. Lavi moaned. He shifted his weight, hands slipped down to encircle the waist of the man currently straddling him. Kanda's fingers raked through his hair. It hurt, just a little, when the other pulled too hard. It also turned him on like nothing else.

He had no idea how they ended up like this. One minute they were chatting casually on the couch, sake and beer on the coffee table and the latest demo from the band playing in the background. The next thing he knew Kanda was crawling into his lap and impatiently tugging at his tank top. It must've been something he'd said, but Lavi couldn't, for the life of him, figure out what it was.

Now they were both half naked with the flies of their respective pants wide open. Lavi's cock was straining against his boxers while Kanda's was already out, tip rubbing deliciously against Lavi's washboard stomach. Kanda grinded down, the curve of his ass settled exactly where Lavi wanted it to and the redhead moaned again, louder this time, as he was pushed back further into the couch.

Kanda had come over to meet with Lulubell, their manager, about the promotional shots for the band's upcoming tour. Lavi was in the shower when he showed up, after an impromptu jam session with a local blues guitarist he knew. Being the drummer Lavi didn't bother much with how the band was run. He came back out, water still clinging to his hair, to Lulubell and the rest of the members heading out the trailer.

"Hey man, come," Devit jerked his head toward the door. "We gonna hop a few bars to celebrate." To which Jasdero echoed eagerly, already chugging from a half-full bottle of whiskey.

"Nah, I'm kinda tired," he had said, which wasn't a total lie. "You guys go. I'll probably turn in early or something."

Some promise that had been, Lavi thought, as he finally tore his mouth away from Kanda's long enough to take a breath. Kanda was looking at him with lidded eyes, lust apparent and face flushed. They stayed like so for a minute, hard-ons poking into each other. Lavi remembered being surprised earlier when he saw that Kanda had not left with the rest. The man was lounging on their couch, scrutinizing the promo photos and sipping cold sake. Lavi didn't even know they had sake around.

If he were more coherent he'd have grasped that Kanda stayed behind just to talk to him. More than talk, most likely, and that everyone else probably knew, too. At the time he didn't think much of it – there were always random folks just hanging around; they were a rock band, after all. He went to the fridge to grab himself a beer, and when he came back Kanda was asking him to take a look at the shots Lulubell had picked. They ended up talking about scheduling and the new set and Kanda's upcoming exhibition before Lavi put down the empty beer bottle and stretched. It was right after that he found himself with an armful of the other, and before he could react Kanda was kissing him like it was just the natural progression of things.

His fingers dipped into the waistband of Kanda's jeans. The brunet moaned, arched his back and rocked into Lavi's erection. Lavi pulled at the pants, squeezing the firm glutes and tracing the exposed entrance. Kanda jerked at the contact, but a coy smirk was making its way to his lips.

"So," Kanda's voice was hoarse with want. "You want to fuck?"

Lavi would've laughed had he the breath left to do so. "Yeah," he managed, rolling the man off him so he could kick off his own pants. When he retrieved a condom and lube from the communal drawer next to the couch Kanda raised an eyebrow. Lavi didn't bother explaining. Sometimes the bedroom in the back was already occupied, other times people were simply too impatient to stop. Just like them. Just like now.

He paused long enough to prep himself as Kanda stared at his cock with a devouring gaze. The brunet licked his lips, and Lavi had to concentrate on lubing so he wouldn't just blow his load right then. He leaned down after he was done, spread Kanda's legs apart, and promptly proceeded to ravish the man into the cushions beneath.

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 **P.S.** Yeah did I mention smut? Anyway I'll probably update this in batches, because it works better if I put some semblance of order into the ficlets. So if you just want to read regardless of timeline I'd suggest you check my tumblr (link above and in my profile) because it'll get updated quicker. Thanks all.


	2. Rattle & Hum (Kanda)

**A/N:** This is the story of the first time Kanda sees Lavi.

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 _Rattle & Hum_

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The music throbbed in Kanda's ears. The floor shook with the bass and the jumping crowd. Kanda gripped his camera tightly. It was waterproof against the sheer amount of alcohol spillage but he was sure if he dropped it the crowd would stomp it to pieces in seconds. Someone bumped him from behind, knocking him into the stage corner. Kanda cursed. He would've hit back except it would definitely start a fistfight, and that was the last thing he wanted with a five-hundred-dollar equipment in his hands.

He could, however, freely curse out the fucking beansprout to his heart's content. That vertically challenged circus clown owed him big time, Kanda seethed. Oh it's just a few pictures for a poster, Allen had said. They'll definitely pay you for your time. Come on, Kanda, they're going to make it big. Just need a tiny bit of help, you see.

Kanda was feeling uncharacteristically generous and agreed to take a look. He wasn't particularly fond of rock; his music taste had always leaned toward jazz and other more classical genres. But he was between projects and had some time to kill. Couldn't hurt to go and judge how photogenic these rockers were, before he had to decide if he wanted to take the commission.

What Allen, that stupid fuck, had neglected to mention to a very infrequent concert-goer was just how crazy the crowd could get, especially while doped up on various semi-legal substances. It was like jostling fish in a barrel. People were pulling at his ponytail and grabbing his ass. Girls with facial piercings glared at him while men with various style of hair either eyed him with distaste or leered at him with obvious obscenity. Kanda felt his blood pressure rise, so much that the show was half over before he realized he had been paying zero attention to the actual stage than what was off and around it.

Irritated or not he still had to get some semblance of what he had planned done. Kanda spewed a few more scathing words in his head before turning his attention to the four people above him. They called themselves "Noah's Ark", a flashy allegorical label that irritated Kanda from reference alone. His eyes glazed over the lead singer and the bassist, twins by blood but looked nothing alike aside from the same maniacal grins. They were hopping all over the stage, the singer shouting incoherent screeches while the bassist bashed his head to the drumbeat. In contrast the guitarist was lazily plucking his electric Ibanez, cool and relaxed and utterly at odds with the song's raw energy. His face was pleasant to look at, Kanda had to admit, beautiful for a promo but too symmetrical to be considered striking. And the drummer in the back…

There were very few instances in Kanda's photography life where he found himself rooted to the spot as he stared at something extraordinary. It was as if he were caught in a proverbial trance, the boisterous room slowed around him and the noise dimming into a dull hum. The back spotlight illuminated the drummer's bright red hair and threw shadows onto his angular face. The chiseled chest was devoid of embellishments save for a single dog tag. Like the rest of the band he had painted stigmata on his forehead and wore gold contacts, but curiously for only one of his eyes. It was this fact that initially drove Kanda to raise his camera – he couldn't quite make out the color with the hue of the lights – and didn't realize he had begun taking pictures until he heard the incessant click of the shutter over a lull of the music.

Later he would discover not only did he use up an entire roll of film but they were mostly blurred motion shots devoid of any artistic direction. But out of the stack of useless in-the-moment stills there was that picture where the redhead seemed to be looking directly at him, mismatched green and gold eyes stood out against the contour of his cheekbones. There was the almost staged shot where his hands were clear above the drums, sweat glistening off the six-pack abs and the silver chain a bright reflected blur. It was completely different from the ennui of the guitarist and the coked up indifference of the twins, as if the drummer was hearing something else over the racket of the melody. Kanda recognized it after he perused through the pictures. It was an expression of total immersion, reminiscent of the look Kanda himself wore whenever he was parsing magnificence from the mundane.

Kanda had experienced something like this only twice in his life. One was the moment he met Alma Karma, the other was when he saw Lenalee running across campus on a cool, windy day. When the song wrapped the drummer stepped out from behind the set. Kanda watched him pour water from an opened bottle over himself, casually tossing the red hair back as the lights glittered off his shiny torso. And Kanda decided right then he would take the goddamn stupid commission, if only so he could approach this drummer and ask if he'd be willing to model, separately, just for him.


End file.
